Protest

My soul bleeds where once before the altar Of my manhood I found worship I cannot condone another prayer to falter Where a woman's memory may slip On the bruising stones of childhood, not good The abuse of totem power, the cold Plunder of children's will, what heart so wood Defiled the fragile bodies like gold Cankered now, my faith denigrated For every woman by lust desecrated. She was my temple, and I worshipped there Since a child, loving what was pure In my belief, kneeling to beauty as not mere Form and figure, but some more Meaning of her as a gift the mirthless scream Of man. And I would for the shame Blight your house and blight the horrid dream That brought this slur against the name Else how can I lead, how can love be Trusted when it masks such cruelty?